9.28.2011

It's the little things, really: a few yards of different linens to play around with; flowers from the market yesterday; Rye Soda Bread (from a Heidi Swanson recipe) that I baked last night and we ate with poached eggs and dill butter for breakfast.

9.25.2011

Another Sunday brunch, but this time with rain. Sometimes there's a fine line between enjoying something so much that it needs to be documented and not enjoying something as much because you were too busy documenting it. (I think this is why my penchant for carrying around a disposable camera developed.)

So, here are a few quiet moments from today, but I think the real joy was in conversation, Chicago architecture, a beer over some football, an insightful lecture, a book on the train . . . and my long-awaited meal at The Publican. Oh. The. Food.

On a side note, I'm just finishing up The Fountainhead. Have you all read any Ayn Rand? Thoughts? It's just completely in my head.

9.16.2011

Sam's the best for having these photos tucked away on his desktop. He took most of them during the summer of 2010, right after college graduation. A few things to note:

1/ I still have that flower chain (and you can see it hanging in my dining room here).
2/ Notice the hazy Chicago skyline that looks so tiny in the third photo.
3/ The picnic was a going away for one of my best friends (and roommate at the time), Ellie, who moved to Austin. That day she attempted baking healthy "black bean brownies." I'm giggling just thinking about how bad they were.

9.14.2011

I got up at 5 a.m. to finish this little baby. It's all sugar and cinnamon and everything warm and heartening. Sam insisted that I include the last photo, saying, "Look, it's you. It's you, in your kitchen."

9.11.2011

The days are getting shorter and the nights a little colder. Today, I made a pesto pasta with peas, a vegetarian avgolemono soup, and bought a big watermelon as a treat (although carrying it home was not). These days are fleeting, but I don't mind the change. Summer was beautiful.

And, something so lovely and apt:

Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.